


Beneath the Dreaming Spires

by Writcraft



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-01
Updated: 2016-01-01
Packaged: 2018-05-10 22:27:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5603233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writcraft/pseuds/Writcraft
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Hogwarts was always beautiful at night.  Even tonight when spells slice through the air in rainbow colours, there’s something mesmerising about the sight of the spires of the castle stretching into the charred sky</i> – Remus and Sirius have a story, which begins and ends beneath the shadows of Hogwarts’ castle spires.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beneath the Dreaming Spires

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the RS Games 2015. Thank you to A for the pre-read and SPaG check. The Pythagoreans thought of five as “hieros gamos” the marriage between heaven and earth, which resonated with me in the context of the themes of this fest (stars, sky and celestial bodies) and this story. On that basis, I chose to split the story into five parts. The prompt which inspired the story was a Hilaire Belloc quote: _When friendship disappears then there is a space left open to that awful loneliness of the outside world which is like the cold space between the planets. It is an air in which men perish utterly_

**Part I - Hogwarts**

_“Dwell on the beauty of life. Watch the stars, and see yourself running with them.” (Marcus Aurelius)_

Sirius Black is a cocky bastard. He swaggers into Hogwarts like he owns the place, and his easy stride doesn’t falter when he’s called to take his seat beneath the Sorting Hat. He’s languid, dark and expensive and moves with self-confidence that’s almost magnetic. When the Sorting Hat shouts out a hearty _Gryffindor_ he lets out a whoop and punches his fist in the air, and everybody laughs and cheers.

There’s a lot less fanfare when it’s my turn. By the time they get to ‘L’ I suppose the novelty has worn off a bit. The hat slips over my head and hums and haws, as my gaze seeks out Sirius Black. He gives me a lazy smile and winks, mouthing _Gryffindor_ as if he owns it – as if he owns me. It sends a rush of pleasure through my body and the hat chuckles.

“I see,” says the hat and I wonder if Sorting Hats can smirk. “Gryffindor!”

Gryffindor it is. I sit opposite Sirius and stick out my hand. “Remus Lupin.”

“Lupin.” He grins, shaking my hand firmly. “Sirius Black, but don’t let the surname bother you. I’m nothing like my father.”

By the time they serve pudding, I’m already half in love with him.

*

Sirius insists he’s not like his father a lot. Not like his father, his mother, his brother or anyone from Slytherin. “Damn snakes,” he calls them, his expression stormy. “Can’t be trusted, any of them. You mark my words.”

I’m not about to argue with him. His dad’s his business, and by all accounts Orion and Walburga Black are into the sort of blood politics none of us give two hoots about. Sirius talks about his family in dark, dismissive terms as if there’s something ominous in his history. He huddles close to James on the sofa in Gryffindor Tower and shares short nips of whisky from a metallic flask he’s managed to smuggle into Hogwarts. They bow their heads together, and murmur about the war and the way they’re going to be fighting on the front line as soon as they’re old enough.

“There’s a war coming,” Sirius says and he takes another sip from the flask, wincing as the strong liquor makes his throat bob. “We’ll need to be prepared.”

“To fight?” Peter looks worried, and I shift closer to join the circle.

“If we have to,” I say. “If we can make a difference.”

Sirius looks at me, and it’s another slow, lazy wink and I’m done for. “Moony can bite them if they try anything funny. You’re our secret weapon.”

I snort and shake my head. “I’m just as likely to bite Dumbledore as anyone else. You know that.”

“Not if we’re by your side.” Sirius puffs his chest out and looks pleased with himself. He’s proud of his Animagus form, and I think he likes the fact someone with aristocratic heritage can turn into a scruffy mongrel. He rakes his hand through his hair and offers me the flask. “Drink?”

I take the whisky and watch James and Sirius laugh and talk in whispers. Eventually James leaves with a yawn, and Peter follows close behind.

“Come up here, will you?” Sirius’ eyes are lazy with sleep and the flames of the fire send shadows moving across his face. I move next to him, and he stretches out until his head’s in my lap. “Love you, Moony.”

Sirius is drunk, and he says stuff like that when he’s half asleep and warm with firelight and whisky. It doesn’t mean a thing. I stay very still in case he decides there’s somewhere more comfortable than my lap and this one, blissful moment. “Love you too, Padfoot.”

Sirius mumbles something about his father being a bastard, before finally succumbing to sleep. I listen to Sirius snore and watch the way his eyelids move as he dreams.

Even when Sirius sleeps, he’s full of life. I like to think he’s battling dragons and flying through the stars. When his face twists I brush his hair from his forehead and wonder if his dreams are more like mine – dark, with nightmares and shadows.

*

Even though he takes the piss out of him, I often think Peter’s the one Sirius likes the best. James is occupied with Lily these days and he’s too busy trying to be sensible to get up to mischief. I’m a Prefect now, and I don’t want to cock that up, so I keep my distance from anything too outlandish. 

“Books, books, books. Is that all you ever think about?” Sirius tells me on more than one occasion that he’s sure I prefer the library to him.

I shrug, and try not to turn beet red. If only he knew.

Don’t get me wrong – we’re inseparable, the four of us – even when we’re not together as much as we used to be. Sometimes I want to tell them my secret, and let my words burst out of me like a howl at the moon. It would be easier if they knew. Instead, I carry it with me without saying a word. My stomach churns and my words catch in my throat when Sirius looks at me as if maybe he knows.

Not _that_ secret, if that’s what you’re thinking. They’ve known about my furry little problem, for years. This is the other secret. The one that makes my heart skip and flutter in my chest when Sirius stands closer than normal. The one where the scent of Sirius’ cologne sends a powerful jolt of arousal through my body. 

The secret I don’t even like to acknowledge to myself, because life’s hard enough as it is.

I thought it was a mistake at first. Perhaps I was just an innocent first year, captivated by a quick smile and a cocky kind of confidence. I hoped by now I’d be able to look at Sirius without heat flooding through my veins. Instead my heart beats restlessly when he looks at me just so, and I’m reminded of first year Hufflepuffs giggling when Sirius flashes them a smile.

Sometimes, Sirius reminds me of the sun. People want to be close to him, because they want to feel warm. They don’t want to be stuck in shadows, or somewhere out there in the cool half-light. They want to feel his heat on their skin and bask in his rays.

I tell myself our friendship means more than anything else ever could. 

Besides, if you get too close to the sun it’s going to swallow you up in flames.

*

“Fancy a walk?” 

“Why not.” I fall into step with Sirius, walking with him towards the Forbidden Forest. The spires of the castle stretch into the sky behind us, until they disappear into the wispy clouds. It’s night, and the stars shine brightly in the cool, midnight sky. One shines brighter than the rest and it makes me sad just to look at it. Sirius’ namesake: so bright, so close and yet still thousands of light years away.

He’s so handsome in the moonlight, and I wonder if he knows how good he looks when his face is contoured with moonlight and shadows. He’s slender, his cheekbones pale against a shock of long black hair. No matter how much he tries to leave his ancestry behind he still looks expensive. Exquisite. I’m star-struck when he smiles and my heart thuds in my chest, a traitorous thing I’ve tried to control for too long.

“Sometimes it’s like I’ve known you forever.” Sirius tugs at his robes and drops them carelessly on the floor, stretching out on the fabric – long-limbed and edible. He rolls his shirt up at the sleeves, and loosens his tie. He crosses his legs at the ankle and pats a spot on his robes he’s saved just for me. “Don’t you think?”

“You practically have.” I sit on the offered space, tucking my knees under my chin and hugging myself to protect myself from the winter breeze and the dangers of being too close to Sirius. “Since the first day at Hogwarts, at least and I don’t count much before that.”

“Me neither.” Sirius doesn’t elaborate. Instead he shifts in place until I can feel his body next to mine, hard and warm. “Why don’t you lie down?”

“Is it going to make me any warmer?” 

“Perhaps.” Sirius’ voice is gruff and husky, like nothing I’ve heard before. He clears his throat, and I can almost hear him thinking. 

“Don’t do that.”

“What?” He sounds like he’s smiling.

“ _Think_. You’re the only person I know who thinks loudly. It’s unsettling.”

“You’re only _unsettled_ because you don’t know what I’m thinking about.” Sirius is definitely amused, his words warm like hot honey and lemonade. “I know what you’re thinking about.”

“I doubt it,” I mutter. I hope he doesn’t bloody know. He couldn’t. Could he?

“You’re wondering when I’ll stop being an ignorant clot and kiss you.” Sirius is close now, his breath warm on the nape of my neck. He’s so solid, so _alive_. He hums with it, his body almost vibrating with energy. I wonder if I’ve misheard him because those kind of words don’t feel comfortable when they come from Sirius. They feel strange and awkward, and my heart trips and turns as I wonder if this is one of those defining life moments I’ve read about in books.

“I’m not wondering that.” My voice falters and cracks, and Sirius squeezes my shoulder.

“Liar.”

I turn to see if he’s teasing me. His eyes shine with mirth but there’s something else, something darker. There’s an eagerness I didn’t expect to see, a hopeful expectation which makes my heart clench. I’d like to be serious for a moment because the way Sirius looks at me is a revelation. Instead I laugh like he’s just told the funniest joke, until my eyes sting with it and I’m gulping in breath and choking on every burst of humour.

“Don’t tell me you’ve been queer all this time. Don’t you _dare_ , because I won’t believe you. All of those witches, half in love with you. You’re just winding me up.”

Sirius laughs too and he moves closer, pushing me until I’m on my back and he’s moving over me and it’s like nothing I’ve ever felt before. “Have you ever seen me with any of them? I’m hardly the kind of bloke to live a life of celibacy, Moony. I thought you’d have cottoned on by now.” Sirius runs his fingers along my cheek and his voice is gruff, his breath tainted with whisky and pumpkin juice. “I’m always winking-”

“You wink at everybody,” I point out, breathless and unsteady.

“How about my hungry look?” Sirius gives me one of those deep stares which always send shocks of arousal shooting through my body, sending my heart into overdrive. “You must have noticed that?”

“Not really,” I lie. It sends shivers through my body, as I realise with a crash of reckless emotion that the look I like the best was for me all of this time. I give him a smile which I hope looks more blasé than I actually am. “I’m usually too busy with my homework and you’re obviously crap at flirting.”

Sirius growls, as if he can’t believe it’s true. Sirius is good at everything. It’s annoying and brilliant, or somewhere in between.

“I’m ready to say something else, but before I can Sirius kisses me.

Of course, he dives right in. His lips are firm and confident, his touch eager. There’s no time for nerves so I swallow them back and muster my Gryffindor courage to kiss him right back. His lips are cold from the night breeze and his hands are chilly against my skin. I kiss him until every bit of him feels warm and call back the words which threaten to spill from my lips. There’s _I’ve been in love with you for half my life_ , there’s _please, more_ and there’s his name over and over again, rolling through my mind and pumping through my veins. 

He puts his hand over my heart and rocks against me, his hand rough in my hair. Two can play at that game. I slide my fingers through his hair, pulling him closer and kiss him hard. I roll him over and push my leg between his, feeling his hard heat against my thigh. He turns us again until we’re off his robes and on the grass, rolling on the rain-damp ground without a care in the world. When my eyes flutter open all I can see is Sirius, and stars.

As he calls my name, it shudders and trembles in the moonlight. His face is etched with shadow and starlight, and I wonder if I’ll ever tire of hearing my name on his lips – hot and heavy with arousal.

“ _Sirius_ ,” I reply. Reverent, and exposing.

I come undone as the stars shoot through the night and when Sirius whispers my name again, it sounds like a prayer.

**Part II – Order of the Phoenix**

_“Gods come, and gods go. Mortals flicker and flash and fade. Worlds don't last; and stars and galaxies are transient, fleeting things that twinkle like fireflies and vanish into cold and dust.” (Neil Gaiman)_

“Remus.” I whisper it at first, but he’s sleeping too soundly to hear so I try again a little louder. “ _Remus_.”

He stirs slowly, turning and blinking as he wakes. He gives me one of his slow, steady smiles that leaves my heart beating off kilter. 

“Morning.” He stretches, and I drink in the sight of him stretched out against my sheets. I’m not sure he has a clue how desirable he is, even when I show him often enough. He yawns and scratches his stomach, his fingers trailing lazily lower. “What’s the time?”

“Early still.” I catch his hand and twine our fingers together, shifting close. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“No?” Remus raises an eyebrow and his lips twitch into a smile. He sees right through me. “So you thought you’d wake me up too, I suppose?”

“I was bored.” I shrug and nuzzle into Remus’ neck, breathing in his scent. “Bored and horny.”

“You’re always horny,” Remus murmurs. He’s not really complaining – I can tell by the way his voice sounds like another one of his warm smiles.

“We don’t have to worry about James or Peter disturbing us now.” I touch every inch of Remus, loving the way his breath catches at every light caress of my fingers. He’s putty in my hands when he’s languid and just waking up. I commit every shudder and arch of his body to memory, mainly so I can do it all again, and again. “We’ve got the room all to ourselves until noon, nobody’s going to barge in this time. Who wants to waste time sleeping?”

Remus captures my lips in a short kiss and smiles against them. “Not me.”

I shift over Remus in our small, creaky bed. It’s just a Muggle inn somewhere in Suffolk. There’s a spider in the corner of the ceiling, and the sheets smell faintly of mothballs. There’s musty leather cushions discarded on the floor and the window shakes on its hinges with every gust of breeze. It’s a world away from the shadows of Hogwarts grounds and stolen kisses in dusty classrooms or hidden corridors only we know anything about. It’s hardly perfect and yet, somehow, it is. “Next time we’ll go somewhere really fancy.”

Remus snorts. “You know I don’t need fancy.”

“What do you need?”

The question hangs between us and Remus gets that peculiar look he sometimes has, as if he wants to tell me something but he can’t quite form the words.

*

There’s precious little time for weekends away when there’s a war to be won. I haven’t seen Remus for weeks and wonder about him, out there somewhere. I wonder what he’s doing, and who he’s with. I hope he’ll stumble back through the Floo tonight so I can fuck him, kiss him and keep him here until morning.

I’m still thinking about Moony when Arthur steps into the room, ashen faced and grim.

“Arthur?”

He stares at me, and his mouth forms the shapes of _I’m sorry_. Images of the people I love flood my mind, and everything goes cold.

“It’s your brother.” Arthur pauses, my heart skips a beat and his words are drowned out by the dull roar in my head. 

_Reg is dead_.

“How?”

Arthur breathes out, a huff of air that speaks of the futility of war and the arrogance of youth. “They think he decided to leave the Death Eaters. Of course, You Know Who wouldn’t allow that to happen.”

“Of course.” There’s a wave of nausea welling within me, and all I can think of is the night when Regulus woke up shouting for his brother.

_It’s just a nightmare, Reggie. There’s no such thing as monsters._

I can’t shake the thought that I should have been more honest – perhaps it could have helped, if I’d told him the truth all those years ago.

 _Monsters are real_.

Perhaps if he’d have known that, I could have stopped him from walking straight into their path.

*

Father dies on a Monday, when the sky is heavy the clouds of an oncoming storm.

“I don’t care,” I say. I pour a glass of wine and try to steady the shaking in my hand. “He stopped being my father a long time ago.”

Moony looks at me, like he can see right through me – and he probably can. It feels like such a long time since I saw him, and his chin and cheeks are rough with light stubble. He looks older and more careworn than before. Perhaps we all look like that these days – all furrowed brows and dark stubble shadows.

“You haven’t spoken about Regulus much.” Remus sips his wine and I know he’s being polite, skirting around the subject with delicate observations. I haven’t spoken about Regulus _at all_. There’s nothing much to say, and I can’t speak about Reg without my heart aching. I mean it when I say I couldn’t give a fuck about my father. I’ll curse his name with my dying breath.

“Come on, Moony. Let’s talk about something else.” I take the wine from his hand and tug his hand until he stands. I run my lips against his skin and sigh when his familiar scent soothes me as it always does. “Or better yet, let’s not talk at all.”

Remus pushes me back, a question in his eyes. I think he’s going to say something but in the end he reaches for me again, his eyes flashing with something I don’t understand. His lips connect with mine and his kisses are fierce, biting and desperate. 

“This is what you want, is it?” Remus’ voice is rough and low in my ear and his hands slide down my back, keeping me close. 

“It’s exactly what I want. It’s been too long.” I break the kiss and work open Remus’ belt. I want to fuck him like we’re eighteen again, without a care in the world. I want to go outside and stretch out beneath the stars and pretend we’re drinking whisky beneath Gryffindor Tower in the shadows of the Forbidden Forest. I want to be young again, living and breathing every last minute of Moony’s kisses under the velvet sky.

“Far too long,” Remus replies with a muffled groan. His mouth is busy on my neck, rough and distracting. His stubble scratches my skin and his hands are firm and urgent as he pulls at my clothes. My father and Regulus fill my mind and I push them to one side.

“I need to forget.” My voice breaks and I clear my throat. I lead Remus outside to the small garden, where the cold night air clears my head and I can face him head on. “I don’t want to be reminded. Not of father, Regulus, the war…not any of it. Not now.”

Moony’s face is half obscured by shadows and his eyes glint strangely in the moonlight. His lips quirk into a familiar smile and I cling onto that. He kisses me again, and we claw at one another like animals. We drop to the ground which is damp from the earlier rain. My skin chills as I stretch out on the grass, then Remus makes his way down my body and whispers my name with a reverence that’s achingly familiar.

It’s _Sirius, Sirius, Sirius_ , a warm mouth and another starry midnight I want to last forever.

*

“We’re agreed?” I shake Peter’s hand and he shakes back, his grip firm.

“Always.” He gives me a broad smile and opens his arms. “You can do better than that.”

“I can,” I agree. I pull him into a hug and clap him on the shoulder. “Be careful. He’s going to want to do anything he can to get his hands on James and Lily. We’ve got to keep them safe.”

“I know.” Peter’s voice trembles and I know how scared he must be. I’m scared too – I’m terrified – not that I’d ever admit it. I give him a mock salute and reach for my wand. “I’ll come and see you soon. You’re not alone in this. We’ll win this war, I’m sure of it.”

“I wish I had your confidence.” Peter gives me a grim smile and says his goodbyes. I take the Floo to Hogsmeade and turn into Padfoot, making my way through the streets. 

There’s fear in the air, and people talk in hushed voices and hunker close to shop doors. The panic is almost palpable, there’s a stench of decay, and the once vibrant streets are littered with remnants of earlier battles. Many shops are locked with heavy bolts and magic which hums and vibrates to keep the wrong sort out. Even those gathered in quiet groups look at one another with suspicion, as if they don’t want to speak too loudly or too freely because even the walls have ears. That’s what _Imperius_ does to people. It turns the best people into puppets for You Know Who, and it leaves us all wondering who’s going to be next.

For the first time in months, I make my way to the Shrieking Shack. There’s cobwebs stretching across the ceiling and rickety furniture which looks as if it’s been left untouched for months. The only sight of occupancy is the fresh scratches which streak along the walls. There’s blood on the floor and it makes my heart ache. I can almost imagine Remus here transforming in the light of the moon, scratching himself and everything in sight as he makes futile attempts to escape from the Shack. I can hear his whines and the loneliness of his howls, as if it’s years ago and we’re watching him change for the very first time.

I should have been there. I’m not sure why I wasn’t, or why I’m here now. All I want to do is speak to Remus and know it’s _him_ I’m talking to, not someone else controlling him from the tip of their wand.

_Do you even know what’s happening, do you even care?_

In moments like this I don’t know how I’ve gone from trusting Remus with everything to speaking in half-truths and filtered versions of reality. There’s been too many missed meetings, too many strange looks and too many moments where I’m not sure I know who he is anymore.

I miss him, when he’s not around. There was a time – just before we left Hogwarts – when we couldn’t get enough of one another. I’d lose my head around him, twisting with him on grassy beds and pillows of leaves and flowers. I’ve never felt more alive than I did that last year, when everything was Remus and Sirius, Moony and Padfoot – just two boys dancing in the light of the moon. Now we just grab transient moments while the war rages around us and we don’t know who to trust anymore. 

I still don’t know when everything went to shit. Remus doesn’t look at me in the same way, these days. Now his face carries a worn, angry look as if he’s disappointed – as if _I’ve_ disappointed him. He always thought I was something unbreakable, and I wonder if being too close to me has exposed one flaw too many. My life’s full of stupid fuck ups and trying to be braver than I am. I hate it, sometimes, when Remus sees through that. It makes me doubt myself, almost as much as I’ve started to doubt him.

I curl up on the floor with a whine and close my eyes, as the wind sets the windows banging on their hinges and shadows dance along the floor.

The Shrieking Shack is too cold without Moony to curl up with. It’s just another haunted house, left to crumble into nothing.

**Part III – Azkaban**

_“The stars are not wanted now: put out every one; Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun; Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood. For nothing now can ever come to any good” (W.H. Auden)_

The sky is cloaked with clouds which blot out the stars, and the air smells like burnt embers and scorched earth.

It’s all I can do to keep myself upright as I make my way down the stone path to a little cottage, ideally situated in a quiet village where nothing bad should ever happen to the inhabitants. In the air a grotesque green skull burns fiercely, stark and unrepentant against the velvet black sky. The door hangs on its last hinge, blasted aside by magic.

James is too still, and cold to the touch. My hands shake as I clutch onto him and murmur his name over and over. I listen for the sound of his heart beating, but there’s nothing left. He just stares back at me, glassy eyed and surprised. He wasn’t expecting this. None of us were. 

I close James’ eyes with trembling fingers, and kiss his forehead which is smooth and cool. He looks younger than ever, stretched out on the carpet as if he’s sleeping. “Sleep tight, Prongs.” My voice is rough, hoarse and desperate. I don’t want to be here mourning over the death of the best friend I’ve ever had. I want to be flying through the sky on our brooms, feeling the warmth of the sun on my back. Everything here is dark, and cold. There’s no fire crackling in the hearth – no laughter emerging from a nearby room. Everything that lived here once has gone.

I can hear crying, an anguished sound which tears at my heart. Almost everything has gone. 

I push open the door to Harry’s room, and see Lily on the floor her body twisted into an unnatural shape. Bile rises in my throat and I pick Harry from his cot and hold him in my arms, clutching onto him in an attempt to feel his warmth. I hold Lily’s hand and swallow. She was so fucking lovely. No wonder James was mad about her – no wonder he wanted to spend every second he could with her.

Harry gurgles in my arms and begins to cry again. There’s a mark on his forehead, fierce and bloody – like a lightning bolt. It’s dark against his pale skin and I brush my fingers over it, wondering how Harry could have lived when You Know Who makes a point of snuffing out every living thing in his path.

“Hush now, Harry. Don’t cry.” As I say it, my breath catches and I gulp back the tears which threaten to burst from me in waves. “It’s going to be okay,” I tell him. 

He’s got that scent new born babies have, of talcum powder and innocence. He reaches a hand with another anguished wail for his mum, and I turn his face away.

He won’t remember, but I will. 

I’ll never forget.

*

“Traitor!”

“It was a mistake, you have to understand – I would have been tortured-”

I don’t believe a word Peter says. His face gives him away, caught between fear and triumph, his hand aloft and his wand shaking as it points at the sky. The _Avada Kedavra_ burns on the tip of my tongue and I want him to feel every moment of my pain when I last looked at James and he met my stare with wide, glassy eyes. 

“I trusted you.” I shout and scream and slice my arm forwards with the Killing Curse bursting forth from my mouth with spittle and vitriol. You have to mean it, to kill someone, and I mean this more than I’ve ever meant anything in my life. I want to see Pettigrew crumple into nothing, I want to avenge James, Lily and the countless years of friendship and love he took from us all. 

“Too slow, Sirius.” He smiles and his spell is quicker than mine.

Before the final notes can fall from my lips, there’s a bang and Peter’s gone. Muggle bodies bear the force of the blast, and I’m surrounded by blood and the stench of burning flesh which makes me heave and shudder. 

They catch me before I can stop them, before I can tell them my story. My head spins because I don’t know how this happened, even now. I trusted him more than I’ve ever trusted anyone. It’s _Peter_. He’s good and kind, and he’s one of my best friends. I trusted him more than Moony – more than Moony with his dark edges and shadows, with his way of seeing things I wanted to keep hidden from everyone.

The earth around me smoulders and when they cuff me, I think I see a rat scurrying into the drain. I should tell them, but I can’t stop laughing.

*

There’s nowhere colder than Azkaban and it’s the loneliest place on earth.

It’s like being suspended somewhere in space, on granite rock which stretches into the sky. The heavens bring no comfort, as they might have done once. The sky around Azkaban is black and soulless, and it’s a patch of sky where even the stars don’t want to shine anymore.

They’re blotted out by the Dementors, which cloud the sun, the moon and the stars until there’s no such thing as day and night. The air stinks of death, and the ceaseless storms pound against the fabric of the building and try to erode it away into nothing.

Sometimes I don’t know where the stone ends and the sky begins. I think about falling into the sea. Down, down into the waves. There’s something appealing about letting the sea swallow me whole. Perhaps I would float to the surface, and let the tide carry me to shore? Sometimes, I think I might just attempt it. I stretch out my arms and imagine toppling into the nothingness of the night.

At times, I think I can see the moon. It’s there between the wisps of cloud and fog that obscure everything light and bright. It’s light is watery and soothing, and I turn my face up to it. I think I can only see it on those nights when it’s at its fullest, brightest best. I think of Remus in the Shack and in my arms. I brush my lips with my fingers, which are grimy and filthy with blood and dirt. My lips are cracked and dry and my skin feels like parchment against my hand. 

Who would want to kiss me now? Remus would kill me on sight, full of anger and retribution.

Some days, I think I’d let him.

*

It’s not pleasure. They’d take that from me, if they could feel it. It’s grief that keeps me from succumbing. Grief and pure, unbridled hatred. 

It’s the thought of my life, surrounded by filth and going half insane while he lives to see the sunshine and to smell the sweet floral blossoms of spring and summer. He lives to feel the warmth of sand beneath his feet, while James and Lily are nothing more than memories, and food for the worms.

 _Remember man, thou art but dust_.

I try to hold on to the way James used to laugh and the way Lily could make him smile as if his heart was going to burst. I remember midnight cloaked kisses with Moony, and pretend the damp of the ocean spray is dewy grass and soft earth under my back. Warm hands dance over my body and I remind myself, over and over again.

 _I’m innocent_.

It sits between endless promises of death. Some nights I think I’ll kill him, slowly until his heart burns. I’ll pour years of grief – two, four, one hundred – into pockets of his flesh. I’d tear into him until there’s nothing left. I move my arm in cutting slices, forwards and back and I smile. Perhaps I’d be quick. Perhaps I don’t have the strength left in me for prolonged torture and fancy magic. A quick _Avada Kedavra_ and a flash of green would do the trick just as nicely.

I wonder if he’ll scream, when he feels the spell slicing into his heart.

I wonder if he’ll run, when there’s nowhere left to hide.

I hope he’s waiting for me.

I hope he’s ready.

*

There’s a picture in a grainy page of the _Prophet_ that’s found its way to a place where nobody cares about the news. A place where life is nothing more than breathing, and waiting for death.

With a jolt of recognition, my body flares with rage and heat. 

_He’s at Hogwarts_.

I’m going to swim across the ocean if I have to. I’ll drag his still breathing body and push him under the waves until he’s breathing salt water. 

I’m going to find him, and break his world apart.

*

When I’m a dog it’s better. The fog stays away, and the water chills me through until I’m shaking and dipping beneath the waves.

Breathe.

Swim.

 _Escape_.

I swim, swim, swim and resist when the ocean tries to pull me under.

When I finally reach the shore, it’s like I’ve been swimming for a lifetime. I curl my body on the sand, my breathing ragged barks and whines. I shiver under the shimmering light of the moon and hear the waves lap by my paws.

For the first time in years, when I tip my head to the sky I think I can see the stars.

**Part IV – Reconciled**

_“Yours is the light by which my spirit's born: you are my sun, my moon, and all my stars.” (E.E. Cummings)_

Being free is like nothing on earth. I run through forests and fields until I’m ready to collapse. They come back to me, one by one.

There’s James, shouting my name and laughing as if he’s going to burst with joy. He’s got his arm around Lily and he’s pointing at me with a wide grin. “I’m telling you, Padfoot – one day I’m going to marry this girl. You just wait and see.”

“I bet you’ll have at least twelve little Potters, making a nuisance of themselves.”

“Just the four,” James confirms, with a wink. “Like the Marauders.”

“Not like the Marauders at all.” Lily looks horrified and she nudges James, her lips twitching into a smile. “I’m going to have a girl for a start – at least one.”

“And we’ll call her Lily. Lily Alice.”

“Like Alice Longbottom?” I shake my head at Lily who flashes me a grin. James is incorrigible.

“’Course.” James puffs his chest out. “My daughter’s going to be the best Auror they’ve ever seen.”

“Your daughter – or your son – will be exactly who they want to be.” Lily gives James a look, her eyes softening as he meets her gaze. “They’ll be happy.”

“Yeah.” James gives Lily one of the love-struck looks he always wears around her. “They will.”

Memories of Lily and James rush through my mind, laughing and dancing in dizzying circles on their wedding day. Remus turns on the dancefloor, arms outstretched and a bottle of cider in his hand. Remus never gets drunk but he did that day – he got the kind of happy, sentimental drunk that made him say all sorts of things he swore he didn’t remember afterwards.

“Love you, Padfoot,” he says. My memory is warm and fuzzy around the edges, like an old photograph where the people keep repeating the same movements over and over again. 

“Love you too, Moony.”

I say it with a bark instead of words and there’s no one around to hear it but the wind, the rain and the moon.

I pick up my pace and run more quickly until my heart burns and I can’t remember anything anymore.

*

I don’t kill him, in the end.

I can’t take any credit for that. I would have struck him down in a heartbeat, with Moony by my side.

I’ve got Harry to thank for saving my soul. Twice.

It’s nice here, wherever I am. There’s a whole jungle and beaches covered with the whitest sand.

Some days I strip off completely and stretch out on a towel, just to feel the sun on my skin.

It’s days like that, that help me remember how beautiful it is to be free.

*

“Lie low at Lupin’s.” I’m pacing and furious. “ _Lie low_? I didn’t escape from Azkaban to keep away from the action. Harry needs me – he needs _us_. We can’t just stay here doing nothing.”

“It won’t be for long.” The others have left, and Remus stokes the fire sending warmth through the house. “You know Albus will be in contact as soon as we’re needed. Harry needs you now more than ever. Don’t do something daft – if you get caught you’ll be no use to him at all.”

I stop pacing and sit to watch Remus tidying up around me, stacking his books into neat piles. I can’t help but smile, despite my aggravation. “You and your books.”

“My first love,” he says, his back to me and his shoulders tense. It sounds sad, the way he says it and I wonder what he’s thinking. “You know me.”

“I thought I did. I’m not sure I knew you at all.” Another wave of guilt consumes me and I want Remus to turn around so I can look at him properly. “I’m sorry.”

“I believed it too. For years, I thought you were capable of-” Remus breaks off and I can see the tremor in his shoulders.

“Why won’t you look at me?”

Remus is quiet, his breathing slow and ragged. When he turns, his face is etched with pain. “Because it hurts.”

“Oh.” I try to sound flippant and cocky just like I used to. “Azkaban doesn’t do much for a man’s complexion, you know.”

“It’s not that.” Remus snorts and raises his eyes to the heavens. “You’re sinfully handsome, as always. Even if you’re a bit more ragged around the edges these days.”

That makes me snort with laughter. Clearly, Remus needs glasses. “Then what?”

“So many years, wasted.” Remus shrugs as if twelve plus years can be shaken off with the lift and fall of his shoulders. “So many years, when we could have been living. Now here we are, back where we started. Over a decade later, we’re still fighting a war.”

“He’s so like James.” I stand and put my hands on Remus’ shoulders. He still smells so familiar to me, the faintest scent of chocolate on his breath which ghosts over my cheeks. “Do you see it too?”

“Every day.” Remus’ voice is gruff and he leans into the circle of my arms. “I miss them so much. There was nothing left when they took you – just a hole in the world where you, Peter and James used to be.”

I stare into his eyes and finding them full of the same look I could never decipher back in the days when I didn’t know who to trust. I see it now. Finally, I see what it means. I see the uncertainty – the years of waiting and wanting. I wonder if he sees it reflected back at him too. 

Our lips meet and the flames of the fire flicker and rise, as the warmth envelops us both.

I’ve been cold for so long, the pleasure of one warm kiss almost makes me fall apart.

*

“This reminds me of Hogwarts.” 

“You can take your whisky better these days.” Remus stretches out on the ground and pillows his head in his hands. “Why do we always end up outside, staring at the stars?”

“Because I’ve spent twelve years waiting to see them again.” I drink in the sight of the white hot pinpoints against the midnight blue sky and shiver at the memory. “All the stars go out over Azkaban.”

“Dementors?” Remus breathes out the word as if it scares him, and he swallows thickly. 

“Dementors and the storms they bring.” I try to keep my voice steady, because I won’t go back there now when everything feels warm at last. “It never stops raining and the sun never shines. It’s dark, all the time. You never know where night begins and ends and after a while, you stop trying to count they days because the sun doesn’t rise anymore.”

I turn to look at Remus, pushing the nightmares to one side and drinking in the sight of him. He’s so different – older and tired – but in some ways he’s still exactly the same.

I wonder what he sees when he looks at me. I’m broken apart and ripped at the seams – I’m not the boy I was and I don’t know what sort of man I’m capable of being. I lose myself in whisky and nightmares, waking up slick with perspiration and yelling at the four walls of my room. I’ve been so long without living, I’m not sure I know how to do it properly anymore.

“I wish I could have saved you from it.” Remus runs his hand over his eyes, his voice rough with pain.

I get as close as I’m able to manage to acknowledge how much I need him. It’s hard to say _I love you_ when everyone you love dies, in the end.

“Perhaps you still can.”

*

When there’s an opportunity to fight, I take it.

It’s time to get out of the dark bowels of Grimmauld Place and into the real world at last.

It’s no good, being cooped up in a place which holds nothing but bad memories. I’m like a dog trapped in a cage, and I’m ready to go out and fight for everyone that’s suffered at the hands of You Know Who and his Death Eaters.

Before I go to the Ministry, I give mother a wave.

She tells me I’m a filthy traitor and screams at me as I leave the house behind.

The moon is cool and bright, and the stars shine in the cloudless sky.

On nights like this, it’s good to be alive.

**Part V – Hogwarts, Again**

_“When he shall die, take him and cut him out in little stars, and he will make the face of heaven so fine that all the world will be in love with night and pay no worship to the garish sun.” (Shakespeare)_

I’m not sure why I thought I could save him. 

It’s just another promise I haven’t been able to keep.

I replay that moment every night, imagining flinging myself in front of the spell or catching him on his backwards fall. Whenever I try to throw myself forwards, my feet are leaden and my movements too clumsy and inconsequential to bring him back.

I take to sleeping in his old room at Grimmauld Place, where the sheets still carry the faint scent of his cologne. I look out of the window when it’s particularly dark and cloudy and wonder if I’m imagining the bark and growl I think I can hear in the distance. I put my last photograph of us next to the bed and remember how it felt to be young, when bones didn’t ache quite so much and friends didn’t die fighting a hopeless war.

I remember. I _remember_ with every fibre of my being, until his memory is almost solid enough to touch. It’s too cold without him here, and I wonder if losing Sirius is my personal Azkaban. The Dementors might as well be up there in the clouds, as the waves of anguish become utterly unbearable.

I can’t even mourn him, properly. There’s not even a body to bury, or a grave to cover with flowers. 

There’s just an empty space in my heart where Sirius used to be.

*

Hogwarts was always beautiful at night.

Even tonight when spells slice through the air in rainbow colours, there’s something mesmerising about the sight of the spires of the castle stretching into the charred sky. The red streaks singe the edges of the night clouds, turning them burgundy and the golden stars shine as brightly as they ever have – making me wonder if this is Padfoot’s last _fuck you_ to the Death Eaters – eclipsing their green _Avada Kedavra_ ’s with Gryffindor colours until the whole sky burns.

I’m sure he’s out there. He wouldn’t miss this battle for anything. One star burns more fiercely than all the rest and I focus on it until I can feel the stroke of Sirius’ fingers against my skin and the gruff, whispered words in my ear.

_Do it for me, Moony. Take the bastards down._

“This one’s for you, Sirius!” My wand aloft, I cast a spell which catches a Death Eater unawares. I keep my voice low when I speak again, just in case those next to me hear. They don’t need to be told there’s too many of them, and not enough of us. They need to believe they’ll live to see the sun come up. I don’t mind about that. Like Sirius, I’ve always loved the night and the sun doesn’t feel warm anymore when he’s not by my side. 

This is just for Padfoot’s ears, and I speak to the brightest star in the sky.

“I’ll see you shortly.”

I blow a kiss at the stars and run forwards, casting spells with dizzying speed. Left, right and left again – in front of me and behind me, magic whizzing past my ears and disappearing into the night, and I _fight_.

I fight as if it’s the last thing I’ll do, and only pause for a heartbeat when the sky around me bursts into flames.

Just as I remember how beautiful the world can be, a spell knocks me sideways.

The flames disappear until there’s nothing more than darkness and the ghost of a hand twining with my own.

_~Fin~_


End file.
